By government calculations, the cost of each employee spending 15 minutes in the bathroom would reach JD 17.5 million per year.

The idea, of course, alluding to the government’s calculations of 1 hour spent by government employees browsing the Internet costs the government JD 70 million per year, leading Prime Minister Samir Rifai’s government to block access to over 48 websites from the internal network at all ministries and public agencies.

The logic is purely flawed. Browsing the computer while working is a non-essential activity and a waste of time. It is a distraction. Going to the bathroom is an essential need for an employee and helps them be in a better condition to do their task.

I hope AmmonNews engages in more responsible editorialism in the future, pointing out issues that actually matter, instead of attacking the government for good moves.

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قبل المضي قدماً، أود التأكيد على احترامي لمهنة الصحافة بشكل عام، والصحافة الأردنية بشكل خاص، وأن تهجمي على بعض الممارسات غير موجهة للصافة الأردنية بأكملها.

والأمر العجيب أن الاتهامات والـ”إهانات” الموجهة لجمعة ليست بالإهانات الحقيقية، وهي في الواقع ليست أمور سلبية، إلا أنها وجّهت بضوء سلبي ووراء عدسة ساخرة لتبدو كأنها انتقادات حقيقية…

اتهم جمعة بأنه وزير “مدلل” لأن منهاجيته وطريقه عمله في العمل العام تشبه طريقة العمل في القضاء الخاص، واتهم بأن لديه “عقلية البزنس” ولذلك فهو “بالطبع” غير ملائم ليكن وزير فعال في القطاع العام.

العجب هنا أن المتخصصين يتفقون بأن الكثير من عادات إدارة القطاع الخاص يجب تطبيقها في القطاع العام لتحسين جودة الخدمات. مثال عليها هو استخدام مبدأ “الهيكل التنظيمي” في القطاع العام بعد أن ثبتت ميزته في القطاء الخاص، وطرق الدفع بالساعات، واستخدام الدعاية والاعلانات لنشر وعي “المستهلك” (هنا، المواطن)، الخ…

الإنتاجية هو الأهم في القطاع العام، والإناجية أيضاً في بالغ الأهمية في القطاع الخاص، وبحسب دراسات وأرقام وحقائق، نعلم بأن الحاسوب قد يضر الانتاجية عندما يستخدم كأداة “استجمام” أو “لعب” يستخدمها الموظف الحكومي وموظف الشركة للفت انتباههم عن العمل.

وإذا فأمر جمعة بحجب بعض المواقع الاخبارية والشخصية ذات الشعبية في الدوائر، وغير المتعلقة بالعمل، وهي — كما أكد جمعة ذاته — ممارسة شائعة في العديد من الشركات وفعاليتها مثبتة.

الصحافة تتذمر بطول “الطوابير” في الدوائر الحكومية، وكثرة الانتظار، وعدم التركيز فيها، وكثرة الاخطاء الممكن تجنبها (ومعها حق هنا) — ولكن لا تحسبوا أن في هذا التذمر رغبة للتغيير والتحسين (فالتذمر موضة وفن)، بل اعلم أن في هذا التذمر رغبة للتذمر فقط لا غير، وإذا أعربت الحكومة أو دائرة حكومية عن رغبتها في معالجة الوضع الراهن، والتغيير والتحسين، فتعود الاسطوانة المكسورة بالدوران، والتذمر، والتذمر، إلا أن التذمر الآن… من غير حق.

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Note that I translated all relevant snippets from Arabic to English myself, and I am by no means qualified to give a proper legal translation or correct legal terminology. It is only done for the sole purpose of giving context to non-Arabic readers and not to be taken seriously as correct technical interpretations.

Concerns

Article 8 is probably the greatest possible concern, stating:

المادة8- كل من قام قصداً بإرسال أو نشر بيانات أو معلومات عن طريق الشبكة المعلوماتية أو أي نظام معلومات تنطوي على ذم أو قدح أو تحقير أي شخص يعاقب بغرامة لا تقل عن (100) مائة دينار ولا تزيد على (2000) ألفي دينار.

Translated:

Article 8- Any person who has, on purpose, sent or published figures or information via the Web or any other network to vilify or slander or insult any person is punished by a fine no less that one hundred Jordanian Dinars and no more than two thousand Jordanian Dinars.

In theoretical terms, the article is actually healthy, as it legitimizes the Internet as a normal continuation of a physical world, where accountability and responsibility still exists, and where the author or creator of information is still responsible for one’s words, just as one is in the physical world. The problem, however, is two-fold:

1. The first problem is the general nature of the offense. While the article appears to target libel, slander, and defamation, however, the final (أو تحقير = or insult) is concerning as it might generalize the article to include all insults/attacks, as opposed to defamation/libel. A common requirement for defamation is that the claim is non-factual and communicated to those other than the defamed individual. The vague and general final term to describe the offense, might be interpreted to render these requirements moot. For instance, if an individual blogs about a government figure and sharply criticizes him with correct information, making valid corruption allegations, it is an insult in general but not libel/defamation. The lack of a specific meaning to the term used makes this concerning.
2. The second problem, which is greater, is that it provides no context-requirement. For instance, the article doesn’t address articles only, or publications, or blogs, but “any communication”. I personally agree with subjecting online publications, articles, and even blogs to such article. I’d also agree with subjecting mass e-mails, or perhaps hall e-mails (i.e. person A sending e-mail to businessman B, slandering potential client/partner/employee C) (side not: provided no external monitoring by the government). However, when it comes to blog comments, online forums, chat websites, etc. I think such article becomes a violation of freedom of expression.

What do you think?

Article 9 also uses general terminology which I found open to much interpretation. Subsection (a) of Article 9 states:

المادة 9- أ- كل من أرسل أو نشر عن طريق نظام معلومات أو الشبكة المعلوماتية قصداً كل ما هو مسموع أو مقروء أو مرئي مناف للحياء موجه إلى أو يمس شخصا لم يبلغ الثامنة عشرة من العمر يعاقب بالحبس مدة لا تقل عن ثلاثة اشهر وبغرامة لا تقل عن (300) ثلاثمائة دينار ولا تزيد على (5000) خمسة ألاف دينار.

The article basically prohibits “indecent” materials that targets (or is accessible to) those below age of 18, as well as indecent material that affects those below age 18. The article supposedly refers to sexually indecent material, whether in writing, imagery, or video. The problem however is the social meaning for indecent may also be open to interpretation. Would it include an insult on religion? Would it include a religious debate? Someone claiming that Religion A is a fairy tale? Certainly by standards of our society these are considered indecent. Is that possible? I don’t think its a serious concern, but certainly more concise terminology (as achieved by sub-section B of the very same article) can help.

Article 13b+c are another concern, perhaps more valid than the previous one. 13b goes to state (truncated):

… يجوز لموظفي الضابطة العدلية ضبط الأجهزة والأدوات والبرامج والأنظمة والوسائل المستخدمة في ارتكاب أي من الجرائم المنصوص عليها أو يشملها هذا القانون والأموال المتحصلة منها والتحفظ على المعلومات والبيانات المتعلقة بارتكاب أي منها.

Basically stating that authorities have the right to possess or confiscate any equipment or tools or software or systems and “methods”  used to commit any of the mentioned offenses and retaining related information and data.

Sub-section c goes further:

ج- للمحكمة المختصة الحكم بمصادرة الأجهزة و الأدوات والوسائل وتوقيف أو تعطيل عمل أي نظام معلومات أو موقع الكتروني مستخدم في ارتكاب أي من الجرائم المنصوص عليها أو يشملها هذا القانون ومصادرة الأموال المتحصلة من تلك الجرائم والحكم بإزالة المخالفة على نفقة مرتكب الجريمة.

Translated:

c- Respective courts have the right to rule to confiscate equipment, tools, and methods, as well as terminate or disable any ICT system or Internet Website used to commit any of the crimes described and included in this Law, and the confiscation of funds obtained from these crimes, and ruling to remove the offense on the expense of those guilty.

Again, this is certainly important and valuable taking into consideration articles that refer to terrorism, national security, pornographic materials, etc. However, given the existence of Article 8, does any form of libel warrant the mere possibility of confiscation of servers or information. And given the concerns on the general nature of Articles 8 and 9, could such a procedure of confiscation of servers or retaining information be a restriction on internet freedom?

I am one who truly believes in the goodwill  of the government. As such, I am comfortable that the government will not take any extreme measures to make the worst of these concerns into truth, ever; however, I am still uncomfortable, and again the reason is two-fold:

1. The potential for abuse is there. While right now the probability of such abuse is zero for all intents and purposes, the potential that such abuse would arise one day, by a future government or under different circumstances in the future, is there. And this can be easily circumvented.
2. Some of these offenses, especially the ones mentioned above, will allow the general public to seek the judicial branch (article 17). Here, vagueness of some of the terms, as well as the possibility for interpretation, combined with the strong powers given to the court, creates greater potential for abuses by the public against owners of websites expressing themselves, facilitated by the courts.

Reassurances

The law finally provides protections to owners of websites and their users by restricting access to equipment, files, data, and information, addressing hacking, and providing a range of punishments depending on the nature of access violations. The term also refers to important cyber crimes, such as Article 11 which addresses those who attempt to use cyberspace to facilitate terrorist activities, subjecting these persons to hard labor.

Article 17 itself, while addressed in the concerns section, is a great step forward to make Jordan grow as a state of Law and Institutions, per the king’s vision. Article 17 reserves the general public’s right to seek justice for any violation personally through our legal institutions. With liberal and progressive interpretations of the laws, and care from the judicial branch, we will have a population that hold one another accountable, and a population that is responsible to one another on the internet, as it is in the “physical world”.

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I have been thinking about this one for a while. You see, I am very interested in regional politics (“region” here comes from the Latin “to Middle East“…), and I like to read about it in as many places I could, including blog posts of course, and I often comment when I feel compelled to share or add.

But I dislike exaggerated points and wrong facts, logical fallacies, an unfounded appeal for emotion, loaded non-arguments, etc. In normal conversations, these might not be that common, but when conversation shifts to politics or religion, where people are passionate about their arguments, often extremely committed to one side — blind to all the rest, these logical “mishaps” become more and more imminent.

When reading such points, I am often compelled to write back, with a counterargument.

The reason I share this now is because, in the Jordanian blogosphere, most points that bother me just so happen to be concentrated on one side, and as a result, most counterarguments I make happen to be concentrated on the inverse side. And I’m not a hard-liner-loyalist, but increasingly I feel that this is what it seems. And its something I’m used to, anti-religious friends, upon conversation, often deem me as extremely religious, while religious friends often deem me as extremely anti-religious. That is because, by my very nature, I like to respond to one-sided arguments (arguably, all passionate arguments are one-sided, but I disagree) with a one-sided counter-argument.

But to cut the crap, and go directly to the real unambiguous point:

Jordan, is a state with its own strengths and weaknesses, achievements and counter-achievements, perks and downsides, and ultimately, the government, is both right and wrong, depending on the issue. I am all for the continuous improvement of the country, society, and the establishment, and I understand and support that this entails criticism of the wrong.

As such, the arguments I try to fight are those that say its all good and dandy, and those that entail its all bad and horrible. But can’t we engage in more balanced critique where we can actually know where Jordan really stands — what are the upsides and downsides of establishment, where to improve, where to reform, where to revolutionize, and where to simply support?

Just because one might be dissatisfied by Jordan’s attitudes towards certain aspects of the Arab-Israeli conflict, doesn’t mean that we should criticize the Abdali Regeneration project as a plan to suppress Ammanis, or even criticize all aspects of the attitudes towards the conflict to begin with. And when one is dissatisfied by internal policies, linking them to a national plan of intellectual suppression isn’t helpful either; it ignores real growth and real improvement in some places. All I say is, know where you stand, know where Jordan stands, and then engage in activism accordingly.

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Abstract

This paper discusses the development of a political system in the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, in an effort to understand the state of the current political system in the country. Different phases and defining moments in the history of Jordan will be studied, and will often directly correspond to phases of Jordanian national identity. Starting from the assassination of King Abdullah I and the short-lived reign of Talal, through the numerous coup d’état attempts in early reign of Hussein I, up to the 1994 Wadi Araba Treaty of Peace, the effect of ongoing events in shaping a political system in Jordan will be explored.

The development of a political system in Jordan will be discussed hand-in-hand along with contemporary regional politics and political movements, coupled with internal views regarding national identity. As such, the rise of Nasser and Nasserism is examined, illustrating the impact of the increasingly popular Nasserist movements in the 1950’s on the government, its policy, and the political system. Similarly, the Arab-Israeli Conflict as a whole, including the Six-Day war, the influence of the PLO, the rise of Fedayeen, and Black September will be reviewed, showing how these also shaped state policy. In addition, the rise of Islamic movements, particularly the Islamic Action Force (IAF), the Jordanian branch of the Muslim Brotherhood, and its relation to and impact on the political system will be discussed throughout the course of history.

It will be argued that the period of the late 1950s in King Hussein’s reign, the Six-day war of 1967, the battle of Karameh of 1968, and most importantly, Black September of 1970, have been defining moments in the history of a Jordanian national identity and the formation of its current-day political system. The paper will reason that Black September represents the climax of an internal political crisis that lasted throughout the ‘70s and ‘80s.

The development of a Jordanian political system will be studied, beginning with King Talal and Prime Minister Tawfiq abul-Huda’s rewriting of the constitution and the establishment of some sort of a semi-democracy that is put to the test in the 1952 abdication of King Talal. The effect of Nasserist-inspired coup d’état attempts, as well as Black September on the Jordanian political system will be investigated, as well as the 23-year-long era of martial law, and the still-developing political system that emerged afterwards.

The essay aims to argue that the current political system – as well as its lack-thereof – in Jordan, is a result of a combination of organic development and non-development due to a century’s internal, as well as regional, political repercussions. It is my hope that this paper would illustrate the malleability of the political system and the possibility of continuous improvement. More so, it is my hope to illustrate that the existing political system (whether its current state is fortunate or unfortunate) is a result of internal, regional, and – seldom – external political repercussions, rather than a set static agenda by the ruling elite.

Background

Since Abdullah I’s reign, the newly-created kingdom of Jordan was particularly unstable; the Hashemite Kingdom of Transjordan (East Bank) has just merged with the West Bank, absorbing highly politicized Palestinian West Bankers, as well as refugees, giving them all Jordanian citizenship, and tripling the population of the country[1]. The entering population of Palestinians was more sophisticated, urbanized, and educated than the average Transjordanian population, which was predominantly Bedouin. Palestinians loyal to the Mufti also saw Jordan as an occupying power, and held a “high moral ground”, believing that Jordan’s Arab Legion, along with other Arab armies, have failed them, while others looked at King Abdullah as a “protector against Israeli aggression”. It is important to note that, until 1967, these Palestinians never demanded separation from the East Bank.[2]

Thus, with a tripled population, a Transjordanian-Palestinian divide, strong Palestinian nationalism, and a growing refugee problem, the newly-created Hashemite kingdom was in highly critical times…

Beginning of Change

With three fatal gunshots[3] the life of newly-created kingdom of Jordan’s first monarch ended, marking the beginning of decades of uncertainty and instability that continue to leave a distinctive mark on the country’s political system today. Abdullah’s successor, his son Talal, shaped by his father’s mistreatment during his upbringing, was resolved on becoming his father’s polar opposite, and as such initiated far-reaching reforms to the Jordanian political system.[4]

While initiatives such as acknowledging the opposition, integrating it into the political system and cabinet, selecting more representative Senators in the upper house of the parliament, and liberalizing the state as a whole were important and highly welcomed by the people, Talal and Prime Minister Tawfiq abul-Huda’s biggest and most far reaching achievement is Jordan’s re-written constitution.[5]

Talal’s 1952 constitution translated Jordan’s monarchy from an absolutist authoritarian regime into a constitutional one, with a basic framework of checks and balances. Indeed, the 1952 constitution proclaims “the Nation is the source of all powers”[6], replacing previous proclamation that, in the King is vested executive[7] and legislative[8] power. The constitution also attempts to safeguard some basic human rights, as Satloff puts it, “banning discrimination on race, language, or religion (Article 6i); ensuring work, education, and equal opportunity (Article 6ii); guaranteeing freedom of opinion in speech, writing, ‘photographic representation,’ and the press (Article 15i/ii)”.[9]

The constitution also created a bicameral parliamentary system; the upper house, the Senate, constitutes of notables appointed by the king and makes no more than one-third of the parliament, while the lower house, the Chamber of Deputies, constitutes elected representatives.

Looking from the outside, the system of government created by Talal and Abul Huda was a basic democratic constitutional monarchy, with the king as the Head of State, a Prime Minister, appointed by the head of state, acting as the head of government, both heading the executive branch, where the king rules by royal decree (analogous to U.S. President’s Executive Order). These two entities can propose legislation, but ultimate authority is vested in the separate legislative branch, the Parliament, which is bicameral and includes an elected body, and can also interfere with the executive branch (checks and balances), especially with votes of no-confidence, in which two-thirds of the elected chamber of deputies could revoke government actions or call for its dissolution. The head of state can still veto parliament decisions, as is typical in many political systems.

However, the political system was still flawed by giving the King and Prime Minister the absolute advantage; almost all articles in the constitution secure rights to the people and parliament conditional upon the “limits of the law”, giving the ruling elite – specifically the king and prime minister – unprecedented leverage, tipping over the balance of the system in their favor. Such “loopholes”, indeed, were ‘exploited’ several times through the course of history, both positively and negatively, in shaping future election law, enabling absolutist martial law with a dissolved parliament, and even enabling the 1994 Wadi Araba Israel-Jordan treaty of peace.

On August 11, 1952, the new constitution was put through the ultimate test, when King Talal’s worsening schizophrenia prompted Abul Huda to appeal to the parliament to depose the king. By Article 28v, the king was required to be mentally sound; accordingly, the parliament deposed him.[10]

The Young King and the Nasserist Wave

Nineteen days before Talal’s deposition, on July 23, 1952, was the beginning of Egypt’s 1952 revolution, led by the Free Officer Movement, which ended with the abdication of King Farouk of Egypt. The revolution also marked the beginning of Gamal Abdul Nasser’s rise to power and influence, and the spread of a distinct pan-Arab, Arab Nationalistic school of thought: Nasserism.

Meanwhile, Hussein was proclaimed king on August 11, 1952, but was under the legal age of 18 years of the lunar Islamic (Hijri) calendar, and as such, Tawfiq abul-Huda continued to rule as Prime Minister, until 2 May, 1953. Dissatisfaction of abul-Huda’s “reign” culminated opposition, with growing “conservative opposition” in Amman, and “semi-liberal opposition” in the West Bank[11]. Thus, by the time King Hussein was to be enthroned and assume full power, there was already a well-established opposition force within the public sphere, the royal palace, and the government. These opposition groups included Arab Nationalists, mainly constituting of Nasserists, national socialists, mainly constitution of communists and Ba’athists, Islamists, mainly constituting of the Muslim Brotherhood[12], as well as Palestinian nationalists. This section focuses on the Nasserist wave, but the influence of political movements such as the Muslim Brotherhood and the PLO (or more formally the Fedayeen) will be studied in future sections.

The first culmination of tension occurred in 1955, when Britain tried, eventually in vain, to get Jordan to sign the Baghdad Pact. While initial Prime Minister Said al-Mufti of the Old Guard harshly opposed joining the pact, other forces disagreed, and he finally resigned his government. The new Prime Minister, Hazza’ al-Majali, announced Jordan’s readiness to enter negotiations with the British on the pact. Meanwhile, radios from Cairo (such as “Sawt al Arab” meaning The Arab Voice) prompted Jordanians to refuse. As popular opposition turned to protest, the government complied and rejected the pact[13]. With that, another major step had to be taken, to further align Jordan for the ever-more-powerful pan-Arabism and Arab Nationalism trends, and it occurred on March 1, 1956. On March 1, the king dismissed General Glubb, also known as “Glubb Pasha”, from his post as the commander-in-chief of the Arab Legion, Jordan’s army. The people, and the Arab world, reacted very positively, considering it a (re)declaration of independence[14], to the point that the king and the monarchy were hailed even by the most liberal and anti-monarchy opposition[15].

But as Hussein was moving closer and closer towards Nasserist Arab Nationalism, Nasser’s pressure began to be felt. Especially because, by then, the July 26, 1956 nationalization of the Suez Canal already took place, transforming Nasser and Nasserism into idolized figures and ideologies, respectively. Free elections occurred in October 1956 that resulted in a parliament dominated by the opposition, mainly West Banker Nasserists and Communists, unsurprisingly, given recent events. Thus, with parliament pressure, King Hussein asked Suleiman Nabulsi, a pro-Nasserist and founder and leader of the National Socialist Party, to head the government. A mere two days after entering office, the tripartite alliance of Britain, France, and Israel, entered Egypt in what is now known as the Suez Crisis of 1956, after which Nasser was defeated, yet nevertheless managed to emerge as a hero in the Arab world.

The parliament, and the newly appointed government, as well as sizable portions of the public sphere, especially amongst liberals, began advocating a union with Egypt. As an article in TIME states, in the West Bank “there were more pictures of Nasser to be seen on the shop walls than of Hussein. […] The country’s new [Prime Minister], Suleiman Nabulsi […] proclaimed flatly: “Jordan’s destiny is to disappear.” ”[16]. Nabulsi’s government also reduced diplomatic relations with the West, targeted pro-Western officials in civil service, and entered into diplomatic relations with the Soviet Union (as a response to Hussein’s request to dismiss a number of communist elements from the cabinet), thus strengthening the position of leftists, specifically socialists and communists within the country. The position of Hussein seemed weakening with time.

Worse yet for the 21-year old Hussein, was that the dismissal of Glubb from the army resulted in “senior vacancies […] occupied by nationalist and Ba’athist officers, who were to challenge the monarchy […]”[17], among these was Ali Abu Nuwwar. Indeed, the Arab Legion continuously became more and more politicized, with Ba’athist, Nationalist, and Socialist political parties attempting to recruit members of the army; after all, the Free Officers Movement has shown that the shortest and most effective path to power was through the army.

As the relationship between the Palace and the Cabinet sunk to an all-time low, with Hussein acting ‘behind the cabinet’s back’, and the cabinet calling for a federation with Egypt and Syria, Nabulsi’s government retaliated, threatening resignation if a list of demands is not met. Hussein ultimately responded, on April 10, 1957, by requesting the resignation of the cabinet.

Opposition rallies expressing support for al-Nabulsi’s outgoing government broke loose, putting more pressure on Jordan and the monarchy. Hussein tried to appease the public by appointing Hussein Fakhri al-Khaldi, a Palestinian, as PM, who resigned 24 hours after appointment. Opposition became stronger[18]. The king tried to commission others to form a government, but they also failed. The country seemed “on a verge of chaos” and on April 13, 1957, units of the army loyal to nationalist Abu Nuwwar clashed with those loyal to the king. It was, to say the least, a coup attempt[19]. The king himself, in a surprising turn of events, went to the said army camp in Zarqa on that same day, after having secretly gained the Bedouins allegiance against Abu Nuwwar (and “his Palestinians”). Then, as described in an article in TIME:

[…] taking the untrustworthy Abu [Nuwwar] with him, he rushed out to confront the rampaging Bedouins, narrowly saved his quaking general from being shot, and won wild cheers from the tribesmen by leaping atop an armored car and shouting: “If you do not want me as your King, I will go!” […] As his Bedouins swarmed over Amman, with faces blackened by charcoal as a sign they meant business, Hussein began warily to consolidate his opening triumph. There were, after all, other armies in Jordan. (TIME, 1957)

Two days later, on April 15, a government by al-Khaldi was successfully formed, with al-Nabulsi still in the cabinet as minister of Foreign Affairs, despite disapproval from the king. On April 16, it was announced that Jordan would receive financial assistance under the Eisenhower Doctrine, had it become victim of aggression[20]. Cairo’s radio, “The Arab Voice” talked about a plot in the palace against the Jordanian people. The street roared; people shouted “long live Nasser” and “down with the Eisenhower Plan”[21], and another unsuccessful coup against Hussein took place, this time linked indirectly to al-Nabulsi. Hussein shifted again to a conservative government from the Old Guard, by appointing Ibrahim Hashem, banning all political parties, and declaring a state of emergency and along with it martial law.

Political parties were dismantled, dissolved, and banned officially, but in reality ‘went underground’, and remained illegal until 1992. The Muslim Brotherhood was allowed to continue as a “charitable organization”. The “democratization” of Jordan that had occurred since 1953 was reversed in two weeks in April[22]. The post-1957 political setup of Jordan was changed:

[…] the Jordanian polity was divided into two parts: the majority that supported the king […], and the minority, comprising the political opposition. Unlike the latter, the majority were inactive, counting on the government to be their spokesperson; this created the “silent majority” in Jordan. (Abu-Odeh, p. 82)

It was then, as a result these events that some form of political “Trans-Jordanization” of the then-two-Banked Jordan started to unfold, with the East Bank generally more favored. The 1957 riots and coup attempts had proven that the huge Nasserist influence on the West Bankers was a threat to the kingdom and monarchy.

Such events could very well be understood through the concept of National Identity. First, the concept of an independent Jordanian state, especially at that time, where no cultural or national distinctiveness has yet developed, was thus mostly intertwined with ‘loyalty’ or support of the Hashemite throne. Transjordanians were generally loyal to the monarchy, but for Palestinian-Jordanians, it was more complicated; a more powerful Palestinian national identity had already developed as a result of political events since the beginning of the century. Nasser’s Arab Nationalist rhetoric was more effective on Palestinian-Jordanians than Transjordanians, since was often coupled with commitment to “liberate Palestine” and solve the Palestine Question, but also since they had less commitment to a separate, independent “Jordan”, compared to Transjordanians.

The Six-Day War

Since 1964, while Jordan remained pro-Western, it also aligned itself more with Arab Nationalism as well, signing a mutual defense treaty with Egypt, agreeing to the establishment of the Palestinian Liberation Organization, becoming a founding member of the United Arab Command, etc. The state of emergency had almost seized, and martial law had been relaxed. However, the post-1957 opposition shifted to “external opposition” as numerous opposition leaders fled to other countries, and as such radios of Damascus and Cairo, now joined by Baghdad, intermittently campaigned against the Hashemite Kingdom nevertheless. Regardless, the monarchy’s political relationship with Nasser was in good shape.

Following activities by Fedayeen elements against Israel prompted it to launch military operations against the West Bank, these quickly escalated, with Nasser requesting removal of peacekeeping troops from Sinai, and on June 5, 1967, the War had officially started. Hussein would later state that Jordan’s particular engagement in the war was “imposed on our nation”[23]. Within hours from the beginning of the war, Jordan was losing in the West Bank, and the palace was flooded by cables from Nasser supporting Jordanian withdrawal from the West Bank, allegedly stating to Hussein “when history is written, your courage and bravery will be acknowledged […] gave-and-take is part of [history] and so is progress and retreat.”[24]

On June 10, 1967, the Arabs had officially lost the war, and thus Jordan had lost the West Bank, with a second wave of refugees entering the East Bank, some of whom have been displaced for a second time since 1948. Martial law was strictly enforced again. Transjordanian-Palestinian relations were again impacted as a result of the war; with the army composed of a majority of Transjordanians and new figures showing that only 696 lost their lives created feelings of guilt amongst Transjordanians, and feelings of betrayal amongst Palestinians, who thought that the Jordanian army conspired with Israel to defeat Nasser[25], contrary to Nasser’s cables, supporting withdrawal from the West Bank as early as twenty-seven hours from military engagements.

Politically, Jordan was to be subject of new “ethnic” tensions that will last decades. Economically, Jordan was in ruins. Jordan’s immediate post-war agenda was the reclamation of the West Bank, and as such attempted maintaining strong bonds with the West Bank, as well as an open bridge allowing the passage of West Bankers and East Bankers alike, in any direction. Israel did not mind, as long as its end of the bridge was controlled by them. Israel on the other hand, made the “West Bank question” more critical, where the option of an independent non-Jordanian control over the West Bank was raised to the international community. By then, the PLO was still not given the status of “sole representative of the Palestinian people”. The position of the PLO, that advocated a liberated Palestinian state, whose destiny is then decided by its people, was not always parallel to the wishes of West Bankers, many of which demanded restoration of land and Jordanian unity.

Still, for Jordan, retrieval of the West Bank was to happen peacefully, through talks and international pressure, rather than militarily with Israel. Hussein emphasized during the Arab Summit that Arab attitudes towards Palestinian liberation were impotent, and emphasized the Jordanian element of the West Bank, calling its people “our family on the West Bank of Jordan”, and hailing their nationalistic and patriotic steadfastness[26].

Black September and the Jordanian Divide

The 1967 war led to a new era, in which Palestinians “were beginning take matters into their own hands”. Guerilla groups, forming since Nabulsi’s era, were empowered and consolidated, most of which were known as the Fedayeen, meaning freedom fighters. The most important of these groups was Yasser Arafat’s Fatah[27]. Fedayeen groups launched attacks on Israel from within the East Bank, and the Israeli army was to retaliate by sizable military action against the Jordanian town of al-Karameh (meaning “the dignity”) in March, 1968.

For the first time, the Jordanian army and Fedayeen fought side-by-side, with unprecedented cooperation, and while Israel’s military objectives were indeed achieved, they had done so with considerable damage to their own army, and as such as seen as some type of victory. Regardless of cooperation, Massad argues that “depending on whose account one reads, both the Jordanian army and the guerillas minimized the role of the other […] and claimed victory for themselves.”[28] Such contention in crediting one side for the victory marked the beginning of tensions to come. The Fedayeen were receiving more public attention, to the dismay of many Jordanian army officers, who saw that their efforts, their more advanced weaponry, and their greater numbers disregarded[29]. Indeed, while around 15,000 Jordanian soldiers with artillery, tanks, and canons fought, while most estimates state that 300 Palestinian fedayeen fought[30]. Jordan will also however change the rhetoric of al-Karameh to market it as a Jordanian cause, rather than a national Palestinian cause.

As paramilitary entities, the Fedayeen, with their growing popularity became both a military and “existential threat to the Hashemite rule”, as Fruchter-Ronen describes it. He also describes this period as:

[…] characterized by the strengthening of [Fedayeen] organizations and their entrenchment in Jordan by means of the establishment of autonomous military, political, and social institutions. (Fruchter-Ronen, p. 244)

Their presence as “a state-within-a-state” was thus strengthened. While the official Jordanian story accuses the fedayeen of acting as ‘bandits’, Massad says that “serious guerilla misconduct” was, in a number of cases, caused by “Jordanian agents”[31]. Regardless, a significant rift within the Jordanian population was on the rise. While Hussein initially did not respond, some[32] say because of his sympathy with the Palestinian cause, while others, like Fruchter-Ronen attribute it to the initial popularity of the fedayeen, which later decreased as trans-Jordanians and middle-class Palestinians objected to their “violations”. During the beginning of 1970, Hussein arranged meetings with Bedouin tribal leaders to garner their support, but they were not mobilized.[33]

Even before Black September proper, Jordanian retaliation against fedayeen was often directed at refugee camps, which, indeed, harbored some fedayeen, but also shows how, by that time, “the army looked on all Palestinians as an extension of the fedayeen and vice versa.”[34]

Tensions increased further when Prince Zaid Bin Shaker’s wife was murdered in her home. Hotels were supposedly shelled, and courts were “completely out of action”. By then, Amman’s streets were completely controlled by the fedayeen. The Royal Palace was also targeted, as was the broadcasting center and power station. Threats culminated when, On September 1, an attempted assassination of Hussein took place. The three hijacked planes in the Dawson’s Field hijackings were landed in al-Zarqa by a fedayeen group, after which they were eventually blown up with 54 passengers still on board[35], the rest of the hostages remained in possession of the fedayeen. Queen Noor claims that, in a phone call with Fatah leader Yasser Arafat, Hussein was told that he had twenty-four hours to exit the country and surrender the throne[36].

And as the official Jordanian government story goes, Jordan had “no choice” but to act militarily if it was to preserve the Hashemite throne[37]. International pressure to reclaim the hostages also mounted on the government. On September 15, a military government was set up and the army began its violent operations; martial law was reinforced. That day, Arafat became commander-in-chief of the Palestinian Liberation Army. It was a Civil War. The Jordanian army moved to Amman and northern towns. But Black September was not a one-sided operation; the fedayeen continued to attack the palace, but also military and intelligence headquarters. In response to fedayeen attacks on September 17, the army launched a massive, unorganized counterattack on fedayeen, regarded as some as “a cleansing campaign and general slaughter of the Palestinians”[38].

Hussein and his government maintained that the death toll was 1,500-2,000, mostly Palestinians. International journalists, as well as the guerillas reported a toll between 7,000 and 20,000. Guerilla forces were defeated, and remaining fedayeen were assaulted and forced to leave the country. The PLO also reassessed its role in Black September, and “admitted to a number of mistakes that helped to precipitate the clash”[39]. Jordanians, however, as stated, still assert that military action was the “only choice” to preserve the kingdom.

The war itself was fought by trans-Jordanian and Palestinian-Jordanians alike, both, on both sides, with many Palestinian-Jordanians and trans-Jordanians remaining neutral. Still, the divide between Palestinian national movements, supporters of the Palestinian Liberation Organization, and Palestinians in general on one hand, and the Jordanian army, Jordanian loyalists, and even Transjordanians in general on the other hand grew further by these events. Black September symbolizes a serious “clash” between Palestinian Identity and Jordanian Identity, as described by ex-Minister of Information Laila Sharaf.

In the periods between 1967 and Black September, “the state of Jordan lost some of the characteristics of its sovereignty” in favor of the PLO, says Fruchter-Ronen, and adds:

[These events] have been imprinted in the collective consciousness of both Jordanians and Palestinians as events bearing symbolic, social and national meaning, and carrying internal implications on Jordanian society and the Palestinian–Jordanian relationships even until these very days. To a large extent, it may be claimed that the Civil War of 1970–71 was a turning point in enhancing the growth of trans-Jordanian national consciousness. [Source[40]]

With the end of Black September, we would see another main shift to Jordan’s agenda, both internally and externally. Jordan changed its stance towards the PLO, accepting it gradually as the “sole representative of the Palestinian people” and as such letting go of its claim for the West Bank. Jordan’s involvement in the Arab-Israeli conflict remained, and its involvement with the Palestinian cause continued, albeit shifting from “our family on the West Bank of Jordan is suffering” to “our Palestinian brothers are suffering”. In 1974, in the Arab League Rabat Summit, a resolution was passed proclaiming the PLO is the sole representative of the Palestinian People, and the 1982 Fez Summit, in which it was agreed, unanimously (i.e. including Hussein) on the establishment of an independent non-Jordanian Palestinian state in the occupied West Bank. And, on 1988, in an address to the Nation, King Hussein formally letting go of the Jordanian claim for the West Bank, and declaring full support of the “Palestinian Cause” and the PLO.[41] This happened after, based on a PLO request, the Arab League unanimously voted in 1988 for a Jordanian disengagement with the West bank.

Islamic Movements in Jordan as Friends of the Throne

When Islamic Movements are mentioned, especially in Jordan, mind goes immediately to the Muslim Brotherhood, and rightfully so. The brotherhood is Jordan’s largest, oldest, and most influential Islamic group, and its political party, the Islamic Action Front (IAF), is the most influential opposition group today. The Brotherhood’s official presence in Jordan began after the elevation of the status of Transjordan to a kingdom in 1945, and the movement was granted legal status as a charitable organization in January, 1946, and was granted status as an “organized group” in 1953[42]. The relationship between the Brotherhood and Abdullah I flourished as he supported their conservative Islamic agenda, and saw it as a good tool to counteract the effects of communism and socialism post World War II, whereas the Brotherhood supported the union of the two banks and “respected the religious credentials” of the Hashemites[43]. It is important to recognize that while the Muslim Brotherhood itself is not a political party per say, it is highly politicized, whether today through the IAF or before as a grassroots movement with legitimacy and leverage.

As mentioned earlier, the Muslim Brotherhood also continued during the 1957 crisis, in which it was allowed to continue as a charitable organization. However, it was also helpful to Hussein in combatting the wave of Nasserism discussed above[44], and was, in the 1950s and 1960s, a good source of support to the monarchy. The Jordanian branch operated like its Egyptian parent a popular grassroots movement, supporting the idea that Islam is an all-encompassing religion, that shari`a law should be implemented as state law, and opposing general views of pan-Arabism, Arab Nationalism, and other nonreligious schools of thought.

Since 1967, but especially since some years after, the strength of Nasser’s Arab Nationalism, as well as general secular nationalism started to fail in the Arab world, as many saw the disaster of 1967 as a proof of the failure of these ideologies. With these, the Muslim Brotherhood and Islamic Movements in general began to prosper. Then came the 1979 Iranian Revolution, that later proved to be an Islamic Revolution, that, for many, showed the possible success of an Islamic state. For many, the Islamic revolution, along with socioeconomic woes of the time lead many to favor the Brotherhood’s slogan “Islam is the solution”[45].

Return of Parliament Life and the Islamic Opposition

Post the 1988 disengagement from the West Bank, Hussein believed that Jordan’s stability and institutions were able to sustain political development after decades of martial law and parliamentary elections. The National Assembly convened to vote on Hussein’s decision on West Bank disengagement, and along with it a modified election law where the West Bank is no longer represented. Since “house of representatives” in that assembly was unelected, thus basically just allowed the new laws to go to action for the 1989 elections. The elections themselves were a response to popular riots in April of 1989[46], which themselves criticized economic policies. The elections themselves were considered honest and democratic[47]. While political parties themselves remained outlawed, the ban on political activity was lifted; members of multiple parties were among the parliament, from far left to far right. Chief among these was the Islamists, who claimed 40% of the seats[48].

Now with considerable power, “the Brotherhood became the regime’s main opposition both inside and outside the parliament” says Tal[49]. The Jordanian government, on the other hand, had already by 1985 regarded the Muslim Brotherhood as a “strategic threat” over concerns of increased fundamentalism and concerns over their ‘secretly-planned’ education and preaching programs[50].

In 1992, after Parliament Life had returned, the ban on political parties was lifted. As such, the IAF was founded the political party of the Muslim Brotherhood, and many underground parties were re-established.

The Jordanian-Israeli Peace Treaty of 1994, which will be discussed next, was the final blow in regime-Brotherhood relations, which transformed the Brotherhood’s party, the IAF to a true opposition move. In the 1993 parliament, the IAF occupied 16 of 80 parliament seats, and firmly opposed “any peace deal with Israel” adding “on whatever terms”[51]. Since, the IAF has not been significantly included the cabinet, though its voice in the parliament, as well as demonstrations and rallies are often heard and not silenced. The IAF has especially been a proponent of Jordan’s slow normalization of relations with Israel, and continuously stressed the use of education to promote the ‘Palestinian cause’ and keeping the public aware of the ‘Zionist threat’.

The 1994 Jordan-Israel treaty of Peace in the Context of Parliament, Political Freedom, and Political Development

In August, 1993, the parliament was dissolved three months before its end of term, in preparation of new elections under, in which electoral rules had been modified. Such modification was done supposedly “to reduce fundamentalists’ advantage”[52] according to Boustani, referring mainly to Islamic fundamentalists and the IAF. Islamists indeed lost 14 seats, now with 18 IAF seats, and leftists won only 2 seats, with the rest going to centrists and conservative loyalists[53].

According to Raffaella Wakeman, changes to election law did not alter representation in terms of number of seats per district, but did change the system from Bloc voting to Single Non-Transferable voting (SNTV)[54]. Wakeman also identifies attempting to drive IAF out of the parliament as the main motivation behind the 1993 and 2001 election laws. However, since the original 1986, representation was not proportional, especially in the capital and other cities such as Zarqa, as a residual consequence from Black September, thus high amounts of Palestinians suffering malapportionment.

An interpretation of the 1993 modifications to election law is to facilitate moving forward with the peace treaty with Israel, which the parliament very well may have blocked its ratification. Thus, in facilitating the treaty by election mechanism “reform”, two parties took the hit: Islamic Movements in Jordan, mainly the IAF, which, still, remains the largest centralized party in the parliament, and Palestinian-Jordanians in general.

The 1994 Wadi Araba Jordanian-Israel Treaty of Peace created an additional rift in the country, one that empowered IAF opposition. More seriously perhaps, is the social issue of marginalization of Palestinian-Jordanians, who make up around 50% of the country, depending on which statistics you read, and yet are mis-represented within the Parliament.

Conclusion: Today’s Political System in context of the Past

Jordan’s political system today can definitely be seen as a result of decades’ worth of political repercussions, especially during Hussein’s time. Crises in the first decade of his term put significant strain on Jordanian national identity, highlighted differences between opposition and loyalists, often aligning these along racial lines. Hussein’s response in 1957 preserved Jordan and the regime’s stability, but cemented in the constitution basis for extended dissolution of the government and authoritarianism if the head of state sees it fit.

Black September had many long-standing political effects as well, it being most responsible for current social issues between Palestinians and Transjordanians in Jordan, and the basis for serious malapportionment in the government.

Today’s Political System includes two main issues of public concern, which are also possible hurdles to future democratization: first, the issue of Palestinian-Jordanian marginalization in the parliament and government, and second, the relationship between the government and the Islamic Action Front. The former can be described differently, as an issue of mis-proportional representation, especially in the country’s political and intellectual capital, Amman.

As for political development in the country, it has been very limited today. While press is partly to blame, the bulk of this issue comes from the nature of political parties in the country, with most opposition parties, with the exception of the IAF, weak, with no real political presence. This is a main hurdle to political development. The underlying reasons for this can be linked to Hussein’s policies of 1989 and 1992, which returned parliamentary life and political parties, and were hailed as positive steps in the direction of democracy. The problem is, given the History of Jordan since 1957, most political movements in the country have been of external influence, whether from Egyptian Nasserism, Egyptian Islamism, Syrian and Iraqi Ba’athism, Palestinian Nationalism, or Syrian Socialism and Communism. By the 1980s, these parties lost relevance in Jordan’s internal politics, and were only given legitimacy and popularity due to the political oppression of the regime. By 1989 and 1992, no party had a real agenda relevant to Jordan, other than blind support or criticism for the regime depending on its parent party, whether in Syria, Damascus, Baghdad, or others.

But the current regime can do a lot for harboring political development, from the de-marginalization of Palestinian-Jordanians and Amman, to increased transparency, political party laws, or other programs. And there is one important motivation here:

In support of my main objective in the abstract, the paper should have shown the malleability of the political system. For instance, the return of political party law in 1989 in an effort to please the people after riots regarding economic woes, but also all the way since refusing to sign the Baghdad Pact. Even if one doesn’t pass judgment on current state of “democracy”, the power of public pressure and the malleability of the political system have been integral to political development in Jordan even during periods of martial law and suspended parliament life.

Citations and Endnotes

Works Cited

On the move: Jordan. (peace talks with Israel). (1994, June 11). The Economist (US).

Abu-Odeh, A. (1999). Jordanians, Palestinians and the Hashemite Kingdom in the Middle East peace process. Washington, D.C.: United States Institute of Peace Press.

Aruri, N. H. (1972). Jordan: a study in political development (1921-1965). The Hague: Nijhoff.

Boustani, N. (1993, November 10). Centrists and Hussein Loyalists Gain Seats in Jordan Election. The Washington Post.

Fruchter-Ronen, I. (2008). Black September: The 1970-71 Events and their Impact on the Formation of Jordanian National Identity. Civil Wars, 10(3), 244-260.

Hussein of Jordan. (1988, July 31). Address to the Nation. Retrieved May 9, 2010, from Official King Hussein Website: http://www.kinghussein.gov.jo/88_july31.html

Massad, J. A. (2001). Colonial effects : the making of national identity in Jordan. New York: Columbia University Press.

Murphy, C. (1989, November 9). Jordan Holds Parliamentary Election In New Mood of Political Openness . The Washington Post.

Press and Publication Department. (1967). Al-Watha’iq al-Urduniya [Jordanian Documents]. Amman: Press and Publications Department.

Queen Noor. (2003). Leap of Faith: Memoirs of an Unexpected Life. Miramax Books.

Satloff, R. B. (1994). From Abdullah to Hussein: Jordan in transition. New York: Oxford University Press.

Tal, N. (2005). Radical Islam in Egypt and Jordan. Brighton: Sussex Academic Press.

Tawfiq Abul Huda, e. a. (1952, January 1). The Constitution of The Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan. Retrieved May 5, 2010, from King Hussein Library: Documents: http://www.kinghussein.gov.jo/constitution_jo.html

The Hindu. (1951, August 20). The Hindu. Retrieved May 4, 2010, from Abdullah assassination case opens: http://www.hinduonnet.com/thehindu/2001/08/20/stories/10201045.htm

The Middle East Journal. (1947, July). The Constitution of Transjordan. Middle East Journal, 1(3), pp. 322-333.

TIME. (1952, August 18). JORDAN: Schizophrenia. Retrieved May 5, 2010, from TIME: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,816694,00.html

TIME. (1957, May 6). Jordan: The Education of a King. Retrieved April 20, 2010, from TIME Archives: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,809412,00.html

Wakeman, R. L. (2009). Containing the opposition : selective representation in Jordan and Turkey. Cambridge: Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Dept. of Political Science.

Wiktorowicz, Q. (2001). The management of Islamic activism: Salafis, the Muslim Brotherhood, and State Power in Jordan. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.

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The status of the Arab Revolt is complex, especially when considered by an Arab. While on the one hand, the Arab Revolt signifies a rebirth of the Arabs, in which attempts for independence re-emerge, and in which the yearning to greatness after years of dormancy is rekindled. In that respect, there is a big chance that Sherif Hussein’s correspondence with the British to secure an independent Arab future lead to the existence of the modern Arab states. One the other hand, however, while the Arab Revolt might signify the birth of Independent Arab entities, it also embodies some sort of death; a more serious Arab decline.

The deep involvement of the British with the Arab Revolt, as well as the Hashemite-British alliance have given leverage to Britain over the Arabs and allowed it to secure an autocratic role in handling the remains of the Ottoman Empire after its dissolution. The Arab Revolt, instead of resulting in the Birth of a unified and independent Arab state in the Arab regions of the Ottoman Empire, lead to the partitioning of the entire empire, the creation of artificial nation states, often with imported regents or rulers, the birth of the Palestine Question and the greater Arab-Israeli Conflict, the continued ‘colonization’ of the fragmented Arab states as a weak periphery ever supporting the west.

This complex two-sidedness of the Arab Revolt makes it particularly hard, especially for an Arab, to determine one’s views towards it. While an Arab might owe it to the revolt to still call oneself ‘an Arab’, its long term political failure means that an Arab also owes it to the revolt that he probably is, with an increased probability, regretful of being ‘an Arab’.

I do not think I am in a position to comment if the Arab Revolt was benign or not, worth it or not, positive or not. My point is not to comment on Sherif Hussein’s efforts in the revolt, nor the efforts of the Arabs as a people, because I think it is largely irrelevant. Regardless of the motivation, goals, and intentions of the revolt, the reason I view it with some sort of melancholy or regret is the end result of fragmentation and instability. And I do not think that Hussein or any of his peers had an impact on that. I look at the revolt with melancholy because of the British involvement, the broken promises, the double-alliances, and the way history unfolded. What a shame.

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As the end of my extended winter vacation approaches, the stay back home has come to a (temporary) end. I’ll be on a 15 hour trip to get me to my “third home” in Boston, Massachusetts (since we have always been taught “المدرسة بيتك الثاني”, meaning “school is your second home”) in anticipation of another lovely semester at MIT! Though it is probably juvenile to ‘say goodbye’ before spending a short time apart from home, I have garnered a few observations and articulated my timeless feelings and attitudes towards Jordan, and why such feelings and attitudes (positively) inhibit me to begin with. So here we go…

I live in a country whose borders were arbitrarily drawn by Gertrude Bell, so carelessly that a misalignment in transparent paper didn’t seem to bother her one bit. A country low on natural resources, that the late King Hussein’s quote “الإنسان أغلى ما نملك” (meaning “mankind is our greatest asset”) is used jokingly to reference the lack of oil, water, and arable land. A country with a nonexistent independent historic cultural identity, and a nascent national identity.

Yet, not an inch of Jordan exists that I cannot but absolutely adore. More importantly, however, are the people whose culture and identity astound me enough to understand this “haunting beauty” the late king refers to. This culture and identity whose presence I am in awe of, is the same one that began to formulate a mere 64 years ago. What I like about our magnificent ‘national identity’, that I’d rather call a cultural identity, is how it acknowledges and cherishes the fact that it is indeed nascent; an identity summed by the thought that we, “the Jordanian people”, whether Bedouins, old locals, Circassians, Chechens, Palestinian refugees, Iraqi refugees, and others have come together to build something good out of… well, not much. It is an identity of hospitality, generosity, but most importantly, fraternity and cooperation of people united by sharing a common vision of seeking improvement.

It is hard for many living in Jordan to appreciate or even realize the goodness I feel. Indeed, we have problems of our own; we are no beacon of human rights, social norms can be disappointing, and a real influential and internal political party is yet to be seen.

Criticizing the wrong we have in Jordan is the only way to improve; and writing about what is missing is the best way to inspire future leaders to step up and fix things, again, to do something good in an area that was previously lacking. My only message is that such criticism, however harsh it may be, remains to be done in a light where the criticizer realizes that things aren’t necessarily static, and change is very well possible.

It is the duty of a critical thinker to point what is wrong, but it gets to a point where criticism is done in an atmosphere of negativity, a negativity that might convince the thinker and the reader that an effort to improve isn’t worth it… and that’s when the thinker needs to stop and think things through.

I mean hey, we just fixed our tax laws! We’re working on great energy improvements. We’ve made great progress on economical reform. And human rights, like it or not, have improved drastically over the past 20 years. Change is being done, and that’s a positive thought one should keep in mind. Never mistake my sentences as trying to impose satisfaction on whatever we already have; I’d like to remind you that change has happened in the past, and it can happen in the present and future if we work for it. Some things are easier than others, but it’ll work.

/end emotional insights

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There is no battle between the government and the electronic media, and the government welcomes constructive criticism and values differing opinions on the matter, and will not seek any form of the law without the consultation and approval with publishers of online journals, and welcomes the cooperation with all concerned parties to achieve the fitting formulation. We are committed too coordinate with those who disagree and no one-sided decision will be reached.

I happy. Now lets hope that the electronic press committee itself isn’t corrupt. I hope the Jordanian blogosphere also takes advantage of such statement and makes sure that the blogosphere itself will be engaged in a healthy dialogue with the government.

Source: http://ammonnews.net/article.aspx?ArticleNo=53067

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There are a lot of things we don’t know yet, and unless there’s direct evidence that says that we should worry, we shouldn’t. That is not to say that we shouldn’t care about the issue, but we shouldn’t let it change our attitude towards whatever it is that we do.

First, there no clear evidence that the ruling applies only to media sites/news agencies (i.e. alghad.jo, ammonnews.net, ammannet.net, etc.) or blogs as well; so bloggers don’t need to worry from now.

Second, there is no indication of how things will work. As it has been mentioned earlier, there is a government committee trying to figure out how to apply the law to the web; requirements about identity vs. anonymity, trade unions, having an editor-in-chief, etc. most likely won’t apply to blogs. Similarly, some of the restrictions on information in news articles (who are there to portray facts), might not apply to blogs (who are there to portray opinion).

So go about your business for now and write freely; if a government spokesperson drops a bombshell, its another story. When fighting the decision, speak as honestly and freely as you always have. If you have a critical post in store, share it and educate us all. Criticize the government, and hope they’ll be open minded and strive to improve. Act as if its some sort of utopia, and if a decision or announcement tells us definitely that its not, you’ll have time to go back and self-sensor your past posts or something.

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You can view the article in its original location here. Or, alternatively, continue to read it in this same post:

Websites and the Publication Law: The Hour’s Reality and What Should have Happened Instead

Perhaps the talk of the moment in the Jordanian blogosphere is the decision of the Court of Cassation of Jordan (also known as the Supreme Court) ^[1] to categorize Internet websites as a type of “publication” thus extending the controversial Press and Publication Law to govern websites as well. The decision was met with fierce opposition in the Jordanian Blogosphere; the Jordanian free and alternative media was now to be under the same governing legislation that many believe brought Jordan’s traditional media to its supposed demise. Indeed, it is a common view that the Press and Publication Law restricts journalists in exploring alternative news sources, as well as voicing their opinions freely in editorials.

The Court’s ruling, however, occurred in a different light. The ruling was a result of a court case by journalist Ahmad Salameh, currently an advisor for the crown prince of Bahrain, against Samir al-Hiari and Sakher Abu `Antara, who operate Internet news websites, over a case of public defamation. ^[3]

(See Ammon’s article on Salameh’s case against Omar Kallab, listing Salameh’s accusations against Mr. Kallab as well as the Ammon website: http://www.ammonnews.net/article.aspx?articleNO=13047)

The ‘Press and Publication Law’ provides clear anti-defamation codes for journalists, and thus was used by Salameh to argue for his case. In that case, the writers as well as the editor-in-chief of the publication are accountable; and false information or personal attacks on individuals are prohibited. The court ruled in favor of the plaintiff, and the verdict was appealed until reaching the Court of Cassation, which had to establish whether the basis of the case was lawful to begin with, and thus, establish whether the Press and Publication Law can be a governing document for articles on the internet.

Supporters of the ruling also view ramifications in the same light: writers on the internet are accountable to what they say, baseless attacks are prohibited, and information integrity is promoted.

While such view is well-founded, supporters are perhaps oblivious to the other ramifications of using the law as it stands to websites. For instance, the law prohibits writings offensive to religion, prophets, or other people, which might prove to hinder some of the healthy debate going on.

(View the Entire text of the Press and Publication Law in Arabic in its current form here: http://www.lob.gov.jo/ui/laws/search_no.jsp?no=8&year=1998 (Law initially passed in 1998, with major amendments in 2007))

Additionally, concerning questions come to mind; if a website is found to contain writings or expressions that are contrary to the Press and Publications Law, what happens? Are the writers held accountable? Or will the internet-equivalent of forcing a periodical to cease publication – website blocking – be implemented (which would be horrible, to say the least)?

Laws that limit personal attacks as well as offensive statements are not exclusive to Jordan, however. Anti-defamation jurisdictions are actually internationally accepted; Article 17 in the United Nations International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, for instance, explicitly refers to defamation:

1. No one shall be subjected to arbitrary or unlawful interference with his privacy, family, or correspondence, nor to unlawful attacks on his honour and reputation.

2. Everyone has the right to the protection of the law against such interference or attacks.

http://www2.ohchr.org/english/law/ccpr.htm#art17

The problem in Jordan, however, is that defamation law is closely tied to the press, media, and publications, and the prohibition of defamation occurs primarily in the Press and Publication Law. Thus, when people like Ahmad Salameh took a defamation case to court, the case’s success was contingent on the characterization of internet websites as “publications” and recognizing them as falling under the controversial Press and Publication Law.

When viewed in that light, the ruling seems like a well-intentioned move to allow integrity to extend to the Internet, as well as the extending rights of citizens for protection from attacks on their image to apply on the Internet. The problem is, as mentioned before, other stipulations arise due to remaining portions of the law.

Personally, what I think would have been a better alternative, was to emphasize that defamation is a crime independently, irrelevant to the realm of media, the press, or publications. This is actually what most countries have in place; laws stress that if false claims producing a negative image are communicated to any person other than the defamed himself, the defamed has the right to seek retraction and/or compensation.

The reason I think a better alternative is to stress only on anti-defamation laws is because: their negative implications are narrower, yet they guarantee the personal right of protection against defamation on a broader scale. For instance, if one is to send several letters to CEOs claiming that individual XYZ is fraudulent, then it should be the right of individual XYZ to seek retraction and compensation, despite the fact that such defamation occurred in communications that are not categorized as “publications”. Similarly, a person’s own writings on the internet form a natural extension of his own communicated claims, and thus in the event of the defamation, a person can seek retraction naturally.

Extending anti-defamation laws to the internet is natural, and does happen in European countries and the United States (albeit with minor stipulations). It is based on the simple expectation that what you do in the “cyber world” is entailed by what you do in the “real world”.

Reserving individuals’ rights for protection against false claims and attacks on reputation in the internet is highly important. However, such protection of rights should not be done in the frame of media, press, and publication legislation, as that would hinder the openness of the web as we know it.

References

1. kinghussein.gov.jo/government4.html#The%20Judicial%20Branch
2. alghad.com/?speical_section=81&news=476677
3. alghad.com/?news=476359
4. alghad.com/?news=476631
5. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Defamation

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